I was thinking about myself the other night. A friend said something to me earlier in the night about being “detached.” Thinking about it, I realise I am very much detached. It’s like I’m a little tree or plant of some weird sort. I sit in the ground, and around me is a circle of grass. On the outskirts of the grass are other trees and plants. Occasionally, one of them will reach over to me and touch my branches and leaves and flowers. I’ll feel happy for the attention. But then, I always remember that I’m in the middle of this garden, alone. I’m not supposed to communicate in any way with any of the other plants. So I stay quiet for a little while. And the trees and plants on the outer circle, they look at me weirdly, whisper things to each other, and then they move on. They die off quietly, or some big responsible gardener comes and takes them away. So I am alone again.. in the middle of the circle… so involved with all that goes on, yet totally detached from everything around me. With no feelings of worry for others because I always know they will go away when the time is right. I feel guilt, sure, but it will always fade away.